


The Holmesian Anomaly

by in_the_bottle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_the_bottle/pseuds/in_the_bottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sally Michelle Donovan was a pragmatic woman, and she has always been man enough to admit it when she'd made a mistake.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holmesian Anomaly

**Author's Note:**

> I kept having random scenes from this in my head and realised I need to get this out before I go nuts. I actually started to write it from Sherlock's POV, but realised that it wouldn't work as a story unless I fill in all the back-story and turn this into a 20,000 word h/c case fic, which I just don't have the attention for right now. And then it occurred to me that if I write it from another character's POV, I can turn the scenes I have in mind into a character study piece, so here it is. Many thanks to [](http://shehasathree.livejournal.com/profile)[**shehasathree**](http://shehasathree.livejournal.com/) for her speedy beta!

Sally Michelle Donovan was a pragmatic woman. It was what made her a good police officer. She was also good with people, which is why she could often be found next to D.I. Lestrade at press conferences. The D.I. was good at his job, but dealing with the press was not one of his fortes, which was where Sally came in.

Sally had never liked Sherlock Holmes. Arrogant posh white boy who thinks that the world revolves around him, showing off his brilliance like some stuck up peacock with his expensive coat. The second time Sally met Holmes at a crime scene, Holmes was questioning the 14 year-old daughter of a victim; the poor girl was barely coherent with grief, but Holmes was relentless in his questioning. There was an unmistakable glint of excitement in Holmes's eyes when the girl finally gave him what he needed.

That was when Sally realised Holmes didn't really care about anything or anyone except the thrill of solving the mystery. He was a psychopath, a freak.

Sally felt sick.

She was feeling the same thing in the pit of her stomach now as she watched the Freak watching the video again for the fourth time, not a trace of emotion on his face.

Sally liked Dr Watson. Despite his rather poor choice in flatmates, Dr Watson – John – was a good bloke. So it was a complete mystery why someone like John would put up with the Freak as long as he had. They were polar opposites as far as Sally could tell. John was a caring and gentle man, he was a doctor after all, and the Freak was anything but.

In the beginning, she had tried to warn John about the Freak, but John had ignored her warnings. He was friendly with her and her repeated suggestions for him to take up a new hobby instead of following the Freak around somehow ended up an ongoing joke between them, with Sally's suggestions getting more outrageous as they went on, and they developed a camaraderie of sort. John did have a rather morbid sense of humour, Sally couldn't deny that, but John was a doctor and a soldier so that was probably a survival instinct.

"You either laugh or go mental," one of the coroners at the morgue told Sally one day when she saw him and one of his assistants laughing in the middle of an autopsy. She really couldn't blame John for adopting the same tactic.

Sometimes she wished she could do the same.

And whenever that thought crossed her mind, she reminded herself that the day she started finding murders funny would be the day she handed in her badge.

The victims and their families deserved better than to be laughed at.

"Play it again," the Freak demanded, and the video started up again. John, tied to a chair in a dimly lit room God-knows-where. He had been beaten pretty badly and was wincing every time he took a breath; broken ribs probably.

Sally watched the Freak, because she couldn't watch the video again. This wasn't some unknown victim, those were bad enough; this was John, who'd bought her a pint down at the pub just a week ago Friday. John, who got along with everyone and somehow made dealing with the Freak easier; John who was kidnapped three days ago by some psychotic gang of mafioso trying to prove a point.

The Freak's eyes were glued to the screen, not a trace of care or a hint of worry.

"Freak," Sally couldn't help herself. "Do you even care what happens to him? Or are you actually getting off on this as well?" She didn't expect an answer, and she wasn't disappointed.

A minute later, the Freak was dashing out the door, his coat billowing dramatically behind him. The D.I. chased after him while yelling at Sally to get a response unit down to Upland Road at Dulwich.

When Sally arrived at the scene twenty-five minutes later, it was chaos. There was no sign of the Freak or John, and the D.I. was actually yelling at an immaculately dressed woman whose eyes were glued to her mobile. She was barely paying any attention to the D.I. at all.

"Guv?"

"It's over," the D.I. said to her. "Tell the boys to pack up and go home. Matter's out of our hands now."

"What?" Sally had no idea what the Hell was going on. Where was John? Where were the kidnappers?

"Thank you for your cooperation, Detective Inspector." The woman finally looked up from her mobile, a blackberry, Sally noted, and gave them a rather blank smile. "My superior appreciates it."

"You still haven't told me who your superior is!" the D.I. snapped at the woman even as she disappeared into an unmarked black Jaguar. "Bloody MI5," the D.I. cursed as the car drove away.

"MI5? How did they...." Sally didn't even know where to start. How had they got here before them? How did they even know about the case? It wasn't as though they were dealing with terrorists, this shouldn't have even been a blip on MI5's radar.

"Sherlock," was the D.I.'s answer. "He made a call in the car to God knows who and agents were already here when we arrived."

"The Freak has connections with MI5." Sally had hoped that saying it out loud would make it make sense, but the tactic wasn't working. No point dwelling on that now. "Where's John? Is he alright?" She asked instead.

"On the way to the hospital. He's in a pretty bad shape and Sherlock's with him. Look, Donovan, this is going to get messy and I have to somehow explain all of it to the Chief when I'm not even sure what the hell happened." The D.I. ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Sally knew her job. "I'll head back and make sure all the paperwork's in order." Nothing much she could do here and now, but she knew how much her boss hated the paperwork. That was at least something she could make sure he didn't have to worry about.

"Thanks."

For the next four days, there was no sign of the Freak. The D.I. had kept everyone apprised of John's condition but no one except family was allowed to visit. On the fifth day, the D.I. announced that visitors were finally permitted.

Sally bought a bag of grapes and a book of crosswords and puzzles when she got off her shift. She figured John wasn't really a flowers type of guy. It took Sally about half an hour to get to King's College Hospital and she made her way up to John's room.

The rooms off the hallway were mostly quiet – private ward – for patients who value their privacy and, of course, the rich. Sally briefly wondered how John could afford the luxury but figured he probably had doctor friends who'd pulled strings on his behalf.

Sally was double-checking to make sure she got the right room number when she heard it. The voice was so different to his usual haughty tone that it took Sally a moment to recognise the Freak. She stopped in her tracks, curious.

"It's not your fault," she heard John say softly. Sally had the feeling she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but her feet refused to move.

"I should've been quicker. What use is this brain of mine if it couldn't even figure out where they'd taken you?" The level of self-loathing Sally could hear in the Freak's voice surprised her. "I had to watch the fucking proof of life video five times before I could make out your message. Five times! I couldn't..." he trailed off, as though he couldn't continue with that line of thought. "You were being beaten up and tortured while I was being utterly useless!"

The Freak sounded choked up. Sally couldn't imagine what the scene in the room was like. Couldn't imagine the Freak sounding like he did just then, because the Sherlock Holmes she knew, that she _thought_ she knew, would never in a million years sound like the man in there right now.

"You found me in the end, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. You practically rescued yourself. I spent most of the time trying not to fall apart at the seams and be even more useless than I already was."

"Sherlock..."

"John, I had to call _Mycroft_ ," he practically spat the name, yet somehow it lacked any genuine barb.

"That bad?" John's voice was gentle.

"Lestrade's people were too slow... and I didn't know what else to do," came the soft confession.

"How long do you think your brother's going to hold this over your head?" John was teasing now. Probably trying to cheer the Freak – Holmes – up.

"Oh God," Holmes groaned. "Don't remind me. He's going to be insufferable from now on."

Holmes had a brother, Mycroft, who was with MI5, Sally's mind whirled; the phone call in the car that the D.I. had mentioned, MI5 agents at the scene, it all made sense now.

"John," Holmes's tone was... tender. Not a word Sally thought she would _ever_ associate with Holmes. "Don't you dare get yourself kidnapped again. Not without me. I don't think...I... " Sally was once again surprised to hear Holmes actually stuttered.

"Sherlock," John interrupted.

But Sally didn't get to hear the end of the conversation. An orderly pushing an empty wheelchair walked past, giving her an enquiring look. Sally flushed and quickly walked back the way she had come. She shouldn't have been listening; the conversation between Holmes and John was private and she hadn't the right.

Sally found herself at the visitors waiting area at the other end of the hallway, and sat down. She could wait another half an hour and let the pair finish their talk.

And she should probably apologise to Holmes sometime in the near future, too.

Sally Michelle Donovan was a pragmatic woman, and she has always been man enough to admit it when she'd made a mistake. However, it didn't mean that she was looking forward to that particular conversation.

The End.


End file.
